


Cheating Judases

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Bruises, Cheating, Come Eating, Edging, Jealousy, M/M, Prostate Play, hand holding, heavily implied bosselot and kaz/nadine, old fucks in love or something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 09:32:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10964496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: Ocelot takes his flesh hand in his and brings it to his lips. Licks the rough tips of his fingers, the thick callouses from the cane, the scars. Sucks at his wedding band, locks eyes with him, and slowly licks it off his finger.Looks like Kaz isn’t the only one irrationally jealous.





	Cheating Judases

Kaz grits his teeth when he notices the flash of ostentatious red in the parking lot, bright even through his shades. It’s never a good sign.

It’s even less of a good sign when he’s told, the second he steps through the doors, that Snake’s office is off limits for the day and everybody that has tried to get in has been turned away already.

Fine. See if he cares.

Kaz puts the rookies through some _nasty_ drills the whole morning, cigarette clamped between his teeth and his hand aching from gripping the cane too hard. He takes no particular joy in seeing them pant and sweat as they clamber their way through his obstacles with roughly fifty pounds of kit strapped to their shoulders, but it makes him feel a little less stressed.

He crushes the cigarette in his metal fist when the approaching jangle of spurs stops by his side.

“I think the kid with the yellow shirt is about to puke,” says Ocelot conversationally.

Kaz sometimes misses his shitty Southern accent.

“He will in a minute.”

“More like half a minute.”

Like clockwork, thirty seconds later Swamp Dingo falls to his knees and vomits grey sludge into the dust. Kaz sighs. It’s the third time this week.

“Rook!” he barks. “Take Dingo to the med bay, will you?”

“Why always me, Master,” whines Rook.

“Because you can carry him without breaking a sweat, that’s why. Go on, out of here.”

“That’s one big girl,” whistles Ocelot as Blood Rook, a six-foot-six wall of muscle and red hair flops Dingo over her shoulders without even exhaling.

“I know, she’s my favorite of the newbies. Hell of a fighter, too.”

“Did she manage to knock out Hellmaster Miller?”

“Not even in her dreams,” snorts Kaz. “She’s big but she isn’t literally invincible like somebody we know.”

“We have been spoiled, it’s true.” He flips his hair over his shoulder in an infuriatingly calculated motion. “Speaking of your favorites, got anything for me?”

“Yeah. In my office.”

He’s lying, of course. They both are. It’s almost effortless at this point. His actual favorites end up in Outer Heaven through ways nobody can track. He shouts at the recruits to hit the showers and takes Ocelot to his small, messy office. It’s bugged, because everything is, but does it really matter when Ocelot is the one that bugged it?

The door has barely been locked and Ocelot is already shoving him against it, his mouth hungry on Kaz’s.

He pushes him off with a grimace. “You taste like _him_ ,” he growls, the aftertaste of cigar sticky on his tongue.

Ocelot leans against his messy desk, stretching his long legs. “Feeling nostalgic, Miller?”

Kaz undoes his ponytail. “I’d fuck his aging leftovers before I get nostalgic about that stench.”

Ocelot grins. “Convenient, you’re just about to do that.”

There are pink bruises on Ocelot’s collarbone when he undoes his scarf. His thumbs don’t fit into them and that’s just wrong. He wants to squeeze, to crush, but he kisses instead, soft where _he_ was rough, gentle where _he_ was careless.

Ocelot makes a soft little sound and Kaz smiles against his neck, even if it tastes so much of stale cigar it makes his stomach turn. _He_ will never get to hear these.

He’s thought about showing him, sometimes. Slipping him the footage Ocelot omits from his reports, making him watch as he makes his faithful, loyal _Adam_ writhe in ecstasy. It’d be almost worth their plan going down the drain just to see his fucking _face_ when he realizes he’s never given Ocelot a proper orgasm in thirty years.

Maybe one day he’ll get to stick a gun in his mouth, and if he does he’ll tell him all about what he and Ocelot have been doing behind his back since the seventies before splattering his brain into a wall.

Sometimes he wonders if Ocelot fantasizes about it too, when he’s pretending he just _loves_ getting bent over the fancy oak desk by somebody too self-absorbed to even bother giving him a pity reacharound.

He peels off Ocelot’s gloves. His skin tastes only like leather when he runs his tongue along the ropy scars crawling around his fingers and palms. Ocelot dips his blackened fingers into his hair, pulls him in to kiss him, deep and needy. The stench of cigar is still lingering, but if Kaz focuses he can forget it, smell only Ocelot’s cloying cologne and the crisp scent of leather and silk as he undoes his stupid waistcoat, his rumpled white shirt.

Ocelot takes his flesh hand in his and brings it to his lips. Licks the rough tips of his fingers, the thick callouses from the cane, the scars. Sucks at his wedding band, locks eyes with him, and slowly licks it off his finger.

Looks like Kaz isn’t the only one irrationally jealous.

“You better not swallow it,” he growls, when Ocelot grins at him with a flash of gold between his teeth. “I am not giving you Heimlich if you choke on it.”

Ocelot spits the ring onto his forehead. It bounces off, rolls somewhere on the fancy parquet.

Kaz doesn’t actually care enough to find it right now.

There’s more bruises darkening on his hips as Kaz slides lower, crouching to the floor, undoing Ocelot’s ornate belt buckle. A tiny diamond glitters into the engraving. Twilight Armadillo, Ocelot’s second favorite sniper.

Maybe one day the diamond he has mounted into his wrist (it’s Blind Nightingale, the medic that took care of him after Afghanistan) will join it.

Ocelot’s legs tremble when Kaz blows hot breath on the tip of his straining, leaking cock.

“Did you keep this for me?” he whispers, lips brushing the underside.

“Seemed rude not to bring a present,” he smiles, fingers tangled in his hair.

Kaz pulls his pants down to his ankles. His thighs have a straight bruise running across them from being pressed into a desk. Come is trickling down the inside of them.

Kaz is mad again. He mouths Ocelot’s cock, slow and tender, while his flesh fingers sink into him. He’s warm and slick, wet with _his_ come.

He scoops it out. Every last drop. It drips down his wrist and into Ocelot’s pants, and Ocelot squirms breathlessly. When a long leg is wrestled free of the pants and thrown over his shoulder, he lets go of Ocelot’s cock and cranes his neck to suck the last of it out, spit it on the floor.

“It wouldn’t kill him to wear a condom every once in a while,” he grunts, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. It wouldn’t kill him to eat some fucking _fruit_ , either.

“Well, it’s not like he’s gonna need a shotgun wedding when he knocks me up like _somebody_ I know,” rasps Ocelot.

“I did not...!”

Ocelot chuckles, pulling at his hair. “You’re still too easy to rile up.”

Kaz shoots to his feet, pushing him onto the desk, and Ocelot laughs. Reports flutter to the floor. Spurs dig into his ass when Ocelot wraps his legs around his waist. “Oh, am I.”

Ocelot pinches his cheek like a creepy uncle. “Yeah. It’s cute.”

Kaz grasps his hand with the flesh one, tangles their fingers together, pins it down on the desk. “Cute, huh,” he mutters, rubbing his crotch against Ocelot’s bare ass, making him feel all of the erection straining his tracksuit pants.

“Yeah. Just the cutest.” His voice cracks a little. His cock is weeping onto his flat stomach.

Kaz grinds against him again. He licks a slow stripe up his neck. It only tastes like sweat now, like it should.

“Miller, come on...”

Kaz runs the tip of his tongue around the shell of Ocelot’s ear, his cock nestled hot and needy under his balls. “Not until you say it.”

Ocelot swallows. He grips his shoulders and presses his face into his neck. Kaz keeps grinding, slow and unhurried.

“K-Kaz,” breathes Ocelot, almost inaudible, more of a vibration than a sound. “Please...”

He only needs to push his pants down a little to pop out of them, hard and ready. Ocelot is warm and wet, slick, stretched for his convenience by somebody a lot less artful. He makes the sweetest little whimpering sound as he sinks into him, slowly, thrusting shallowly, just enough for him to feel him inching himself inside. He runs the back of his titanium fingers along Ocelot’s cock, so hard it’s curved inwards into his belly, grins when he tightens around him.

And yet, he’s _still jealous_. “Does _he_ make you feel like this?” he whispers.

“Does she?” croaks Ocelot, his breath hitching when the cool metal thumb nudges at his slit.

“No,” admits Kaz, burying himself to the hilt with one smooth thrust.

Ocelot rakes his misshapen, warped nails into his scalp. “Think of me when you’re fucking the wifey?”

Kaz licks the sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, nips at his sharp collarbone, nudges his prostate ever so gently until he’s squirming. “Think of me when you’re fucking the old bastard?”

“Nnn-”

Kaz pulls back a fraction, just enough that Ocelot can feel the flutter of his thrusts close to where he needs it but not close _enough_. “No?”

“Yes,” he whimpers.

“Every time?” not yet. Just a little bit deeper, brush his throbbing cock with metal fingers, wish for a split second he could still feel with them but not want to let go of Ocelot’s hand crushing his on the desk.

“ _Yes_ , you _asshole_.”

“Good,” he grunts, thrusting deep and fast and precise, stroking him with his smooth metal palm against his stomach, breaths mixing together. “Because I think about you all the time too.”

Ocelot comes. He clamps down on him like he’s about to snap his dick off, nails digging into his skin enough to draw blood. Kaz doesn’t stop thrusting even if Ocelot is sobbing for air, keeps going until he’s flushed red from his receding hairline to his pure white happy trail, until he’s drooling and mumbling his name and come is leaking down his side and onto to the desk.

Even if he wanted to pull out - and he doesn’t - he wouldn’t be able to with Ocelot’s spurs digging painfully into his ass, his trembling thighs around his waist begging for him to finish in him. Kaz obliges, and Ocelot swallows his breathless moans.

They slide in a puddle on the floor in the middle of scattered papers, tangled together and kissing lazily. Ocelot slips the minidisc with the latest updates into Kaz’s pocket when he tucks his soft cock back into his pants. Kaz whispers mission numbers, names, coordinates into Ocelot's ear instead of sweet nothings.

When Ocelot will inevitably have to report about his visit, they will never know. Everybody always writes off sentimentality as a human flaw. Unimportant, inconsequential. And that’s how they’ll _win_.

Ocelot shuffles a bit and reaches under his ass to pick up the discarded gold band. He slips it back on Kaz’s finger with a grin. Kaz pulls the red scarf dangling off the desk and loops it back around Ocelot’s neck, covering the bruises and bites.

He doesn’t get up, just sits with his back to the desk and watches him get dressed without bothering to clean up.

“Taking a little souvenir to Outer Heaven?” he says, nodding at the stains between his legs and over his stomach.

“You know me. Never have anything I can’t carry on me. Or in me, as the case may be.”

“Gross.”

“Says the one that sucked...”

“Do _not_ ,” he groans, putting his face in his arms.

Ocelot leans over and kisses the top of his head. “It’s ok. You are cute when you’re jealous.”

Kaz reaches down and gives one of his spurs a spin. “You too.”

“Excuse me, Miller, but I am not jealous, and I most definitely am not _cute_.”

“Hmm. Of course not. Hey,” he says as Ocelot is already putting on his duster. “Be careful out there.”

Ocelot meets his eyes for a moment, then nods.

Kaz listens to his spurs chime down the hallway until they fade out, thumbing his ring around his finger.

It’s going to be boring for a few months, now. But they’re used to it, aren’t they?


End file.
